


Early Owl, Night Bird

by BillieBunnie



Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types
Genre: Calm vibes, Casual interactions, Domestic Fluff, Early Mornings, Fluff, Lazy Mornings, M/M, Mild Cursing, Multi, Red leader Tord, Sleepy army dudes just enjoying a slow morning, Smoking, Tired Teasing, Tired kisses, Use of Pau and Pat, petnames, super fluffy, tired cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-31
Updated: 2018-05-31
Packaged: 2019-05-16 11:37:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14810624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BillieBunnie/pseuds/BillieBunnie
Summary: Pat has a bit of a hard time relaxing when he supposed to be on break with Tord and Pau, but neither really mind even if it's like 4 in the morning.





	Early Owl, Night Bird

**Author's Note:**

> ,,, seasonal summer depression makes me want winter vibes and this is super cutesy,, i also decided to write this is present tense cause i always use past and i suck haha

It’s early. So early that the sun has only barely tried to peek the edge of the horizon, the stretch of sky a bleary brightening gray like the world itself was trying to open tired eyes. And still, Pat’s mind was stuck on an entirely different time zone that told his brain it was late in the afternoon. 

So, instead of sleeping, Pat stands on a balcony overlooking a heavily secluded and mainly dim forest, leaning against the railing as he breathed in the smell of crisp air, clean dirt, and lush leaves. It’s chilled, enough that Pat’s breath comes in a thin fog, but it’s by far the warmest morning Pat’s had in a long time. It was sort of nice not to be freezing when wearing anything less than three layers. He was so used to the feel of the mountains with their ice and snow, and air so cold that it stung to breathe, that he felt perfectly comfortable here in just his white satin sleep shirt and sweats. The slight chill that cut through these clothes, flicking his long hair from his face, was easily ignored. He counts the literal early birds that wake and chirp, and traces some blistered scars that trace the palm of his hand as he leans on his elbows and wonders if it was inappropriate to want a knife and polish in his hands to keep him busy.

Pat had tried to sleep, having a very warm, welcoming bed waiting for him back inside with two sleeping body pillows that would be happy to wrap him in their arms, but something in Pat’s mind was still abuzz. It made him fidgety and restless, to the point that he just slipped out between the heated sheets to prevent waking his partners. One of them had grumbled in his sleep, but quickly found the other in the bed to wrap his legs around. It almost made Pat want to crawl back in, however Pat knew the tingling, cuddling feeling in his body wouldn’t let him be slow and he would end up waking the other two. So, thick imported slippers protected his feet when Pat stepped out on the damp wood balcony, and he ignored the swing seat by the door to simply touch the railing. Standing wasn’t a chore to do after so many years. Besides, sitting would likely just make his restless nerves worse.

Now that Pat had a moment to think, he blamed the plane ride and time change. No matter how many times he did it, he just always had a rough time with traveling across countries so suddenly. He figured that after all these years he would’ve gotten used to it, but each time it was like that very first time he left home for an entirely different country. 

The glass door behind Pat sliding open was enough to drag Pat’s attention back from the dense forest. When he looks back, Pau is casually sliding the door closed again. His hair is messy, even more than usual, his stubble a bit long from not being shaved in a while, and he has a green army jacket slid on over a gray tank-top. A scar peeks out on his collar bone. Socks instead of slippers, and borrowed sweats that didn’t even fit correctly on his hips.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Pau guesses, not sounding as tired as he looks. 

Pat responds with a huff, knowing that was all he had to do to let Pau know he was right, and he is pleasantly surprised by Pau holding out a large mug once he’s close enough.

“Coffee?” Pat asks, already wrapping his chilled fingers around the heated glass before Pau answers. It is steaming heartily, and has a soft caramel brown color. Like Pat’s eyes. It has the smell like a French brew.

“Cappuccino. Sorry, it’s all the mix they have stocked here. ‘Have to tell Tord about that when he gets up- he’ll probably throw a fit when he finds out the crew messed up a direct order.” Pau settles into a slouch next to Pat at the railing, close enough that their shoulders touch. He watches as Pat takes a testing sip before sighing.

“It tastes awful- Thank you.” Pat’s voice is a bit teasing, his smile soft. Something about early mornings always had him a bit less guarded. He offers the mug to Pau, but Pau just shakes his head, sort of just staring off where Pat had been looking. Like he was trying to see what Pat had been seeing. Pat takes another drink and asks lowly, “Did I wake you up?”

“No. I woke up because I had a dream I boarded the wrong plane and ended up in America. It was terrible.” 

Pat chuckles into his unwanted beverage. “That does sound terrible.” 

Pau’s lips twitch, like he would smile, but he didn’t have the energy. After a second, he reaches into his pocket and withdraws a slightly bent cigarette. He places it between his lips, and sets about lighting it with a silver lighter engraved with the Red Army symbol on one side. The burning yellow of the cigarette flashes in the corner of Pat’s eye as Pau inhales before a smooth curl of dark gray smoke blows free into the early morning. The smell is harsh and biting, and something that Pat didn’t realize he was sort of missing. Soft morning dew just didn’t match up to the ingrained scent of nicotine and gunpowder and sticky ice that was the air in the mountains somewhere in Norway, a place Pat figured he was too used to now.

“You should been sleeping more. You were the one that got here late.” Pau notes, and Pat shrugs, inclining his head so that he could almost rest against Pau’s shoulder but doesn’t.

“Jet lag is a bitch.” 

“Yeah, but I didn’t think laying with us would be.”

His tone is flat, but not offended. Just curious and a bit drowsy. Pat would tell him to go back to bed if he didn’t think it would result in Pau stubbornly refusing, probably to the point of getting the both of them locked out of the cabin. Which had happened once before, and Pat wasn’t in the mood to repeat it this early.

Pat lightly tilts his head back and kisses Pau’s jaw firmly three times, smelling cologne and gunpowder and an almost herbal scent. That spot just below Pau’s ear is soft with his messy hair and clear of scars. It could truly be one of Pat’s favorite places to touch with his mouth.

“Don’t be a brat, misiu. You know it’s not, at least when you’re both asleep. I just needed to get some air.” Pat explains, speaking with his lips still close to Pau’s throat.

The corner of Pau’s mouth quirks into an amused smirk, the brow above his scarred eye lifting curiously. “We’re tolerable when we’re asleep?”

“Not at all. I just have the patience of a saint.”

“More like the patience of a mass killer.” 

“Don’t tempt me, Pau. We are alone in the middle of the woods after all.” 

Pau snickers lowly around his smoke, and Pat turns back to nurse his unwanted cappuccino. After another breath, Pau makes the motion to cuddle, resting his head on Pat’s shoulder. His eyes close tiredly at some point, one that Pat doesn’t notice but feels in the way Pau sighs. 

Pat’s shoulder is a bit sharp where Pau rests, it would be much softer and easier to tuck his head into the curve of Pat’s throat, but neither move to do so. The posture squishes Pau’s cheek and makes it a bit silly to smoke, but Pau acts as if he were in the most natural position. Pat listens to the sounds of this secluded time, and leaned his head against Pau’s. 

A silence drifts by, very comfortable and calm. Birds sing from a few trees away, and Pau mutters dreamily that he should get his gun. Pat doesn’t pay any mind. A light wind rustles by. The sun is rising inch by suspended inch, but the morning feels rather still, like the moments before full light could last endlessly. Like the day was just refusing to come, begging for five more minutes of sleep like a child.

The sliding door behind them opens with a light rumble, and both tired soldiers look over their shoulders. The embodiment of terror and evil himself, the red leader pads out of the warm cabin with a duvet wrapped around himself like a cape, the large folds uneven on his shoulders and short on his legs to show his boxers. His wisps of hair are a bit wild, and his eyes droop tiredly. He doesn’t close the door behind him, and walks over to the two soldiers in what seems to be a drowsy daze.

“Morning, słoneczko,” Pat calls softly, and in return, Tord presses against Pat’s back. He nuzzles his head between Pat’s shoulder blades in a sort of needy motion he would never do if the three of them were back on the base.

“The bed is lonely. And very cold.” 

Tord’s voice is sluggish, accent even thicker than usual. Pau reaches out and runs a hand through Tord’s hair, down to the nape of his neck where Pau just massages for a moment. Tord makes a soft hum of appreciation. “Sorry, boss. ‘Didn’t want to wake you up so early.”

Tord yawns in response before shaking in a very slight shiver. Then he stands up taller, expression a little more awake. And it is just a peek at that thoughtful rebel he was when he wasn’t alone, albeit a very tired relaxed peek.

“Is okay? Is there a problem,” Tord asks, mainly curious. 

Pat huffs a laugh.

“Of course not. This place is wonderful. It’s only that I’m not used to the time difference.” Pat explains and smiles briefly. Tord pauses a moment, as if considering the words, then he bobs his head in a curt nod.

Rather casually, he then spreads out the duvet like wings and lightly covers Pau and Pat at the same time as curling his arms at their shoulders. Pulling them into a wide blanket hug. Warmth seeps from him into his partners, soaked into the duvet and his own sleepy body.

“I thought so,” Tord says, snuggling in the middle of these two men, rekindling their subdued heat, “It’s the reason I planned for us to stay here for so long- I wouldn’t want to have a few days rest and then not even be able to rest with my lovers. That’s such a waste of the bed.”

“Clever,” Pau mutters with a soft laugh that is full of snakes of smoke. Tord smirks at his tone, and nods towards the cigarette. Pau holds his corner of the blanket on his shoulder so that Tord can free his hand. 

Tord takes the half done cigarette easily between his fingers, and takes a drag. He holds it longer than Pau tries, and lets his eyes flutter shut. As he leans his head back and blows the smoke smoothly straight up, Pat hums, taking a sip from his mug.

They end up standing there for a short while longer, enjoying the silence. It is so unlike the mornings back in the base. There is no time constraints, no real possibility of some soldier barging in. No meetings or missions between them. Just slightly chilled clothes and half asleep minds and tongues.

Pau takes back his cigarette and adjusts his arm as he does so, casually slipping it around Tord’s neck and pulling their leader gently closer, so that he is almost sandwiched between the two soldiers. Tord allows it, smiling to himself. As Pau takes another inhale of his smoke, Tord casually buries his face against Pau’s jaw, Pau’s neck.

“It’s lovely here, yes?” Tord momentarily slips from one language to another, forgetting words and simply replacing them mentally. Neither Pau or Pat mind, used to Tord’s half garbled speakings, especially when he is excited or tired.

Pau hums in response, slipping his face against Tord’s so that their foreheads touch and their noses brush, and Pau releases the smoke from his mouth quickly just to the left so that neither Tord or Pat get a face full of smoke.

“Very,” Pat agrees, glancing at the two and finding a very fond smile work onto his face, “Although, I sort of miss the snow.”

Pau brushes his lips against Tord’s grin, but looks up to tease. “Workaholic.”

“I said nothing about work. I was speaking of weather.”

“The weather of the base, yeah?” 

“So?” Pat purses his lips, quirks his brows, and it’s a very familiar challenge.

“Don’t pout, Pat. You know that nothing of the base is by itself. With the weather comes the tarps, the tanks, the heavy coats, the drills-” Pau says, grinning behind Tord’s messy hair. Tord interrupts by nudging Pau from his chest, pressing a quick kiss to Pau’s mouth before he eases his body closer to Pat.

“Quiet,” Tord laughs lowly, snaking his arms over one of Pat’s, “Wanting to be run ragged isn’t a bad thing. Masochism is quite appealing in a soldier~”

“Masochism is appealing for you, you mean,” Pau remarks, chuckling.

Pat scoffs. “You two are more punishment than any army.” 

“Then we make a good match, yes?” Tord tilts his head, expression arrogant and playful, and Pat can’t hide his snort of laughter even when he shakes his head.

Tord lightly nudges Pat’s arm with his hands, and Pat obediently hands his still steaming mug to Tord. With his arms free, Pat easily slips one around Tord’s waist and allows himself to lean into the heat of the other two men. 

Pau meets his eyes, and uses his arm that is still around Tord’s shoulders to brush his knuckles along Pat’s chin, tilting his head up with a light nudge. Obviously trying to preserve Pat’s smile, Pau ponders jokingly, “A match made in Hell, right, pietruszka?”

Pat feels his cheeks burn warmly, chasing whatever chill he noticed to the back of his mind.“Hell wouldn’t take us, misiu, you know that.” To push back what he thinks is a stupidly wide grin, Pat kisses and nips at Pau’s fingertips. 

Tord suddenly tenses between them and makes an exaggerated choking noise. Personally offended, Tord holds out the mug in his hands, looking like he was seconds from dumping the whole thing over the balcony in rage. 

“-The fuck is this?!”

“Ah, right. Forgot to tell you that wasn’t coffee.”

**Author's Note:**

> the pet names are Polish (Pau uses it because it's sort of an inside joke, but if he were to use anything else, he'd likely use English pet names and Tord uses mainly Norwegian or Dutch ones, just my hc) 
> 
> hmu @ https://ewdenimjeans.tumblr.com/


End file.
